Hearts of Stone: The Oblivion Archive
by Noah Newport
Summary: Olgierd von Everec, no longer immortal, wanders the Continent without purpose. Reyn, a handsome and resourceful scholar on a mysterious mission, searches for a library of arcane secrets called the Oblivion Archive. When their paths cross, the odd pair are drawn to each other in unexpected ways. But why does Reyn seek the library? And why is Geralt of Rivia on his trail? [M/M Slash]
1. Path of the Rogue

Olgierd von Everec had been mortal for barely a week and he'd already been kicked out of five taverns.

He had been given back the gift of his heart after Geralt of Rivia's defeat of Gaunter O'Dimm. So grateful was Olgierd that he swore to himself he'd use his heart in every way he could from then on - to feel, to experience, to love.

But all he'd done, really, was get shit-faced every night.

His life was already full of grief and regret, so why not partake in the drink? Sure, he might have told Geralt that he would take fate into his own hands... but there was still room in those hands for a pint or two of Redanian lager. If the Witcher were to ask him what the hell he was wasting his second chance for, Olgierd wasn't sure he'd be able to speak truthfully. Deconstructing his life since O'Dimm's defeat was what drove him to drink in the first bloody place. But that was not a melody he intended to hum forever.

So on the evening of his fifth banishment, Olgierd packed up what meager possessions he had and took to the road.

"And just what place will take in your worthless arse?" the barmaid had called after him.

"Col Serrai," he shouted and then hiccuped. He hadn't really considered where he'd go when he started this line of thinking and it surprised him how easily the answer came. Yes, Col Serrai. That nice little valley with those relaxing hot springs. That would do.

The barmaid frowned as she leaned out of her tavern door. For a moment she watched him drunkenly amble up the dirt path leading out of the village.

"Ploughing whoreson!" The tavern door slammed shut. All its inhabitants were glad to be rid of the mustachioed buffoon who drank all their ale and destroyed a table in an inebriated attempt to start a barn dance.

* * *

All Olgierd knew about how to get to Col Serrai was that he had to be careful.

First of all, it was Eastern. Far more Eastern than he'd ever set foot. It was also, he'd heard, a surprisingly dangerous route. One wrong path and he'd find himself in Brokilon, which locals referred to as the Forest of Death. Many a traveler and merchant met their fate at the claws of the beasts who skulked through the ancient wood. Olgierd himself understood that the threat of death was _supposed_ to put him off... but he'd lived so long as an untouchable man that such a fear still felt foreign.

Alas.

What else could he do with his newly regained life? What choice did he have? To sit on his arse night after night or to joyfully experience something new? The valley of Col Serrai called to him, a siren of new possibilities. Of a new life.

"Of a new Olgierd," he slurred to no one but himself.

The path ahead opened into a windy field, stalks of grass pale under the light of the moon. Tall, lanky Olgierd smiled and ran a hand over the ginger scruff of his chin. Without so much as glancing at the village behind him, he stepped into the field and began his journey.

* * *

Reynaui Tze-Windward might not have been a knight, but he could certainly charm one if need be.

The trick was to know _which_ knight to look for. The knight whose eyes ignore the maidens and instead danced to the sight of a handsome young student or barechested sailor. There was always at least one such a knight who patrolled Oxenfurt Harbor.

Reyn - please, only his parents called him Reynaui - found one idling by the docks. The armored man had met his gaze not once but twice during his portside stroll. Reyn knew an opportunity when he saw one.

"Lovely day, sir," Reyn nodded as he approached.

The knight straightened his back and cleared his throat. "Aye. Crisp weather."

"You must be quite warm under your armor."

A thrush of red blotched the knight's cheek.

"My apologies," Reyn lowered his eyes, voice soft as a kitten, "That was an inappropriate way to address a man of the Temple Guard. I forget my conduct."

"Your, er, conduct is fine, lad. Are you a student of Oxenfurt Academy?"

"Yes," Reyn lied. "I'm taking an afternoon break from my studies. I'm rather hoping for a distraction, to be honest."

He smiled, shyly, and watched as the knight's expression turned libidinous.

It was not until Reyn had turned 21 and left his island kingdom of Centaura that he became aware of the effect he had on certain men. That was especially clear on the Continent where refinement was apparently in short supply. He had yet to meet a man whose affections meant anything to him - most were lecherous instead of charming. That suited him fine, though. An arm's length was a comfortable distance. And if a few of the city's more doltish guardsmen had to fall for his tricks, well...

So be it.

"Distraction, you say?" The knight swallowed visibly.

"Yes. I find the company of books much less appealing than the company of another man. May I tell you a secret, sir?"

The knight nodded dumbly.

Reyn's shy smile became coy. "You'll have to lean in close. I shan't speak too loudly."

As if under a spell, the man did as he was told. Reyn leaned in too, so close that his soft cheek just barely brushed the knight's ear.

"You'll find me outside The Rosebud tonight," Reyn whispered. His fingers lightly played with the fabric that hung below the man's chestplate. "And I'll be looking for a strong knight to take me home."

He allowed the heat of his words to linger a moment longer before he returned upright. "Promise you won't tell anyone?"

The knight's words stalled in his throat. His gaze crept down Reyn's cheekbones toward the plump bow of his lips. "I- no. Course not. No one."

"Thank you, sir. Perhaps I shall find a way to repay you for your discretion."

A man shouted from a distance suddenly. Another member of the Temple Guard, calling for the knight's attention. The interruption jolted the dumbstruck man back to reality.

"Returning to duty?" Reyn feigned a disappointed expression as he a drew a finger across the knight's forearm.

"Yes, I, uh, you- I- we- erm..."

"No need for goodbyes, kind sir. You know where I'll be later."

With a face as scarlet as a smashed tomato, the knight chuffed a strangled salutation and dutifully ran down the harbor toward his superior.

"Men," Reyn sighed as he gripped the satchel of crowns he snatched off the unsuspecting dolt. Added to the crowns he nicked from a gullible and overly generous baron in Novigrad, he now had a rather tidy sum.

He certainly hoped the knight would find _someone_ willing outside The Rosebud. It wouldn't be Reyn. He planned to use the crowns to pay for a ride outside of this forsaken city and head East... to some valley called Col Serrai.

This world held many secrets and the guardians of those mysteries would be found there. It was the dying wish of his parents that he seek salvation in the Oblivion Archive. __

_You are the son of scholars_ , they told him. _The key to saving Centaura is knowledge. Find it. And wield it like a weapon_...

Col Serrai was the key to finding the Oblivion Archive. Reyn was sure of it.

He just had to get there first.

* * *

The gentle lullaby of the night calmed Olgierd. Pine trees rustling in the wind, the plaintive coos of nocturnal birds, the crackling of the campfire... it was almost as good as a glass of Toussaint Red.

Almost.

Olgierd had been walking a good four hours before he chose to lay camp for the evening. Nestled in a wood several miles from the nearest village, he found a clearing, built a fire, and settled onto a blanket of sheepskin. A comfortable end to an otherwise turbulent day.

He smiled and pitched a twig into the burning embers. Once he found Col Serrai there would be no more wandering, no more drunken brawls. He would explore the valley's system of caves by day and relax in the hot springs by night. For extra crowns he could help the local health resort clear out any troublesome beasts. Granted he was no Witcher, but he would certainly be the next best thing in such a secluded and sparsely populated region. Besides, his previous life as a Redanian soldier meant he knew his way around a sword.

Longing for the release of a good sleep, Olgierd began removing his boots when a horrible, animal cry shot through the dark.

He leapt to his feet at an instant. The cry repeated, definitely a horse in distress, then an echoing clatter of something heavy and wooden hitting the ground. And then another cry - distinctly human. An older man. And it was a long, ugly wail of pain.

The old, immortal Olgierd might have shrugged at this interruption and returned unbothered to his careless hedonism. But the new Olgierd - flaws and all - saw a chance to finally right a wrong.

Sword in hand and heart in his throat, he raced through the woods toward the source of the commotion.

* * *

Not long after sundown, Reyn had tracked down a traveling merchant in Oxenfurt and paid him handsomely for the privilege of stowing away in the back of his carriage. They quickly mapped out a route that would take him south of Ard Carraigh. It was the halfway point to Col Serrai, though Reyn never dared mention his real destination. He figured he could swindle another goon or hitch another ride once this one deposited him.

The merchant agreed to leave Oxenfurt immediately, no doubt inspired by the new weight in his pocket.

Reyn spent the next few hours tucked beside the carriage's payload of apple crates, bouncing and rocking as the merchant steered his horse along the seemingly endless gravel path.

He was in the middle of a book - some claptrap about a vampire's pregnant bride that nonetheless had him turning pages like some fisstech addict - when the carriage stopped so suddenly that Reyn whipped forward. He held an arm out to keep his head from bashing into a crate.

There was shouting outside. Multiple voices. It was well into the evening now and he couldn't imagine they'd run into any fellow travelers. The horse was going mad, bucking and whining with an intensity that made Reyn's chest tighten.

Then the front of the carriage exploded.

A bomb - likely an enhanced Dancing Star. Reyn knew the sound all too well. The blast was so sudden and powerful that the transport rose in the air for a terrifying half-second and crashed back to the ground with a jarring thud.

Smoke carrying the odor of ash and something sour flooded his senses as the entire carriage filled with smoke. The merchant screamed and then abruptly stopped. The horse was silent, too. There was movement up ahead. Reyn tried to follow what was going on but it hurt to keep his eyes open.

 _Move_ , he told himself. _MOVE._

Reyn dove from the carriage's rear-side window and struck the soil awkwardly. He fumbled upright, dizzy from the smoke and blood rushing to his head. Though the bomb's haze obscured his view, he could tell the horse and merchant were dead. The only sounds now were footsteps invading the carriage and the selfish shouting of the men inside.

Bandits.

If they were desperate enough to kill a man for apples there was no telling what they would do to him. He would have to leave his things in the carriage behind, run fast and hard into the woods and-

A large hand snagged his collar and hoisted Reyn around until he was staring into an ugly, snarled face.

"Who do we have here?" The bandit's voice matched the unpleasantness of his mug. His grin bared yellow and jagged teeth. Reyn struggled but the man's grip was tight.

"Nothing in here but ploughing apples," someone from the carriage shouted. "Wasted a Dancing Star for what? Pie ingredients?"

Another bandit joined them. "Who's this?"

"Some apple-loving runaway. Handsome lil' whoreson. Lips like a strumpet."

"Prettier than one, too."

A ragged bark of laughter. Reyn's mouth became a hard line. Comments like that had an ugly intention behind them.

"Don't look so serious, strumpet boy. The gang'll take good care of yah."

Another hand touched his back. Another bandit he couldn't see. "Real good care of yah."

When the men all laughed again, Reyn found his opening. He kicked up into the soft gut of the man holding his collar. The grip released and Reyn swung a fist around blindly, landing a lucky blow against the the man behind him. Hard enough to feel the bandit's teeth through his cheek.

Reyn ran forward but he was too dizzy from the explosion, too confused from his body's surge of adrenaline. He stumbled over a branch and landed hard on the dirt path.

A rush of feet followed. Coughing, Reyn turned. He expected a blade at his throat but found a sight much more mysterious.

The bandits were not paying attention to him. They were embroiled in a physical struggle with someone Reyn could not see. Someone who had rushed up on them from the shadows of the forest. Swords were drawn, blades clashed, angry voices spat curses. One by one the bandits fell, each sporting ghastly injuries: slit throats, skewered lungs, gouged stomachs.

One man remained standing.

Reyn stared at the approaching figure, a tall silhouette against the glow of moonlight. The man's features were sharp and masculine, his chest broad. Whether his shock of hair was red from genetics or blood from the bandits, Reyn could not tell. But the sight of him, advancing quietly with a gore-stained blade, incited deep panic.

"Stay away from me!"

The man leaned over. He smelled of leather and ashes. "Calm yourself, lad. I'm here to save you." He spoke confidently. A lilt that hinted at a privileged upbringing danced within his words.

Reyn scrambled to his feet. "Do not come any closer."

"Pardon me if saving you from bloody death caused any offense."

Reyn grabbed a sword near one of the slain bandits and held it before him. It shook in his hands. "I've known men like you."

"Have you now?" The red haired man sheathed his blade and puffed out his chest. "And what sort of man am I?"

"The sort who makes huge shows of his good deeds only to demand a bounty. In what ever form or body necessary."

The man pinned him with a quizzical look. Clearly, not the reaction he expected. "What's your name?"

Reyn said nothing. The red haired man advanced another step.

"I am Olgierd von Everec. I cannot say I blame you for being cautious. These are dreadful times. Men behave like monsters for the sheer pleasure of it. And what justice do the innocent receive? If the danger of the path has made you distrustful of 'men like me'..." The man shrugged and rested a hand on his sword's hilt. "...well, perhaps I should have known better than to disturb a young lad like _you_."

Reyn stood a little straighter. This man - Olgierd - towered over him. Not just in terms of height, but experience and presence. "And what sort of young lad am _I_?"

"The sort who cannot lift a sabre without trembling under its weight."

Reyn's mouth opened. The words pushed and shoved each other in his throat. "You- you are- I've-"

"You seem offended."

"You are offensive!"

Olgierd's eyebrows shot skyward. "I am offensive? You had just stopped yourself short of calling me a murdering, raping opportunist!"

"Well, if the bloody robe fits."

"You are the most ungrateful little shit I've ever rescued. And I've rescued many ungrateful little shits."

Reyn swiveled the sword. A warning. A rather unconvincing one. "I told you to stay away."

"Or what?" A grin spread beneath his impeccably styled mustache. "You'll swat me to death?"

Reyn edged backward. Olgierd tutted and shook his head.

"Never telegraph your escape, boy. Think. You're surrounded by miles of forest and bog. Bandits are not the only beasts skulking around.."

"I'll take my chances with the ghouls and shriekers. Least they're predictable."

"Then by all means. Go with your instincts and run off into the night."

"I'll attack you if you follow me."

"Oh, I wouldn't dare."

Olgierd's eyes roamed over him. Reyn found, despite the turbulent air, that he rather liked the man's eyes. A faded blue, almost grey, with a piercing ferocity that made his breath short. Truth be told, he felt naked under the man's searching gaze. The tilt of his lips, too, set butterflies loose in Reyn's stomach. A strange sensation. But not an entirely unwelcome one...

"If you will not say your name," Olgierd grunted, "then at least tell me how old you are."

"Why?"

"Because I would feel aghast if I was sending a boy to run freely toward his death."

"I am no boy," Reyn shot back. "And what do you care of my safety?"

Olgierd mulled this for a moment before shrugging. "I don't."

"Glad you could finally be honest."

The man lifted his chin. "Go on then. Run. Let's see how far you get before a wild boar picks up your scent."

"I shall run farther and faster than any boar. So far and fast that I will never have to see your scruffy face again. I bid you goodnight, Olgierd von Everec."

Reyn then turned without looking (too proud to do so, too eager to get away from this strange and rude man) and shot off to the forest like lightning.

This was his last mistake of the night.

While Reyn possessed certain talents, foresight was not one of them. He ran face-first into the trunk of a birch tree and hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. Unconsciousness took him quickly.

Olgierd pinched the bridge of his nose in both frustration and amusement. "Goodnight, boy."


	2. Two Strangers

Reyn woke with a start.

He fumbled through the confusion of his lingering dream to find his mother's pendant against his chest. Still there, pressed beneath his undershirt. Like always. He breathed heavily.

The pink and blue light of dawn greeted his squinting eyes. He sat up and realized he was wrapped in a warm, comfortable sheepskin. But he owned no such item. Who placed it around him? And who built the campfire smoldering at his feet?

Reyn gave a shout when he saw that man - Olgierd - asleep on the other side of the fire.

 _Shite_. Apparently he hadn't make the smooth escape he wanted to last night.

A morning bird sang overhead. Olgierd remained still.

Reyn examined his surroundings. They were in a clearing off the edge of a forest. A small river ran several paces their left. He forced himself toward it and drank several palmfuls of water.

The camp itself was basic: a fire pit surrounded by stones, a makeshift shade of branches, twine, and canvas, then his savior-slash-captor, Olgierd, and a pack of his belongings.

Reyn took the opportunity to rummage through the pack: clothes, food rations, sword polish. No personal mementos, no lovelorn letters from a wife or mistress. Whoever this man really was, he packed light and impersonal.

"Morning."

Reyn jumped, sliding back a bit.

Olgierd propped himself up on his elbows. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "If you're looking to rob me I'd be quieter about it." He slipped on his boots, stood, and stretched his long limbs. In the morning light Reyn saw him differently from the dangerous man he thought he saw last night. He had the build of a warrior but his affectations seemed rebellious. Ringed fingers, a gold earring, and his hair - a dark flame red he kept shaved around the sides and longer on top - were particularly ostentatious. His face kept a few days worth of stubble and was accented by a long, dilettante mustache.

The plunging neckline of Olgierd's shirt afforded Reyn a view of the man's chest. It was well developed and burly, sprinkled with hair, and criss-crossed with deep scars.

Reyn forced himself to look away.

"Is the sight of me so offensive?" Olgierd shrugged on a dark brocade robe and adjusted the sleeves so his muscular forearms were bare. They, too, showcased battle scars long since faded. No doubt they mapped his entire body.

Reyn breathed in. "Why did you do this?"

"Do what?"

"Why did you bring me back to your camp? Warm me with sheepskin and a fire? You could have left me by the road."

"I could have. But I chose not to."

"And why?"

"Because it was the right thing to do."

"And you're what? Some kind of traveling hero?"

A deep snort. "Nowhere near it. Believe me. But I saw someone at a disadvantage and decided to extend a helping hand. Wouldn't you have done the same?"

Reyn had to shamefully admit he would not. He wasn't the type to spring headlong into danger. He was far better at slipping through the cracks unnoticed.

When his telling silence stretched, Olgierd shrugged at him and grabbed a canteen. "I'm going to refill this at the river. Are you thirsty?"

"I'm fine."

"Then stay here. Or follow me. Or... leave. It's your life. Live it as you see fit, whoever you are."

Reyn watched him cross the clearing toward the river. Somehow this man scared him, puzzled him, and intrigued him all in equal measure.

"My name is Reyn," he suddenly called. His admission surprised even himself. "Reyn Tze-Windward."

"Huh. Is that so? Well, good morning Reyn."

* * *

Olgierd rubbed at his unshaven chin. Four days of scruff scratched his calloused, dirty fingers. He crouched at the riverbed and waited for his jug to fill.

It was not what he expected of his first night's journey to Col Serrai. Nor was Reyn what he expected in a fellow traveler. Men who took to the paths between cities and villages were hearty and rugged. They had to be in order to survive the numerous obstacles of the outdoors: terrain, weather, the cruelty of criminals and vagrants. Reyn was... well, not to denigrate the lad, but he seemed ill-equipped for such trials.

Reyn was young, for starters. Probably no more than 21. Slender as a blade with not much muscle on him. And he clearly had no experience with the outdoors. His unblemished skin, pale from lack of sun, said as much.

The lad's looks were striking, no doubt about that. Handsome seemed the wrong word for him, though he certainly was. _Beautiful_ was more accurate. Beautiful in a quiet, haunted way. His clothing was finely stitched and his accent posh, suggesting he came from money. It made no sense that Reyn would be traipsing around the wild by himself. Unless-

 _Unless he's running from something_.

The thought gave Olgierd pause. No, that wasn't any of his business.

When he returned to the campsite with a full canteen, Reyn stared up from his seat by the fire.

"You're still here," Olgierd said neutrally.

"I can leave if you wish."

"I left wishes behind in my other life. I'm only surprised someone so eager to remove themselves from my presence last night is now in no such hurry."

"I suppose you can't be all that bad if you've given me your sheepskin and a place to rest."

Olgierd sat opposite of him across the fire. Reyn's eyes - intelligent, wide, the color of emeralds - briefly crossed his before darting away.

"You're not comfortable with the kindness of strangers, are you?"

Reyn tucked a section of dark hair behind his ear. He wore it slightly longer than most his age. Wavy and loose with a curl at his neck.

"I'm not comfortable with the kindness of anyone."

"Why?"

"Because I do not enjoy being in debt."

"You cannot say that kindness is a transaction."

"It's my experience, Olgierd, and I can say whatever I want about it."

Strength tremored the young man's voice. Olgierd considered this and took a swig of water. "You owe me nothing. As I've said before you're free to walk."

"I want to ask you a few things first. If that's alright."

"Be my guest."

"Who are you?"

"Well I've told you that already. My name is-"

"I know your name. But I don't know who you are."

The statement caught Olgierd off guard. "I suppose I am many things. I was once called a nobleman."

"A _nobleman_?"

"Must you sound so shocked?"

"It's just that your manner is more similar to... well, a pirate."

"Hah. Maybe that's not so far off the mark. I've spent my entire life wandering. Mucking around. Trying on different hats, for lack of a better phrase. Nobleman, pirate, soldier, lover..."

He trailed off. Darkness crossed his face.

"Do you have a wife?" his companion blinked through the campfire.

Olgierd took a moment before he answered. His voice came out softer than he intended. "I did."

Reyn studied him carefully. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

Olgierd shook his head in an effort to dispel the sudden gloom. "Save your apologies for someone who needs them. Why have I struck your curiosity?"

"I'm leading up to another question," Reyn said to his hands, which fidgeted under his scrutiny. "A big question."

"Ah, a _big_ question."

"This region of the Continent we're in. I assume you're familiar with it."

"Yes, I'd say so. Where are you heading?"

"Just south of Ard Carraigh."

Olgierd raised a brow. "What's a Kaedwen lad like you doing all the way out here?"

"I'm not from there. I'm only passing through."

"It's funny you mention Ard Carraigh. I myself am heading in that direction. Though I'll be passing through the Eastern mountain ridge."

Reyn's posture went rigid. "Where exactly are you traveling to?"

"The valley on the other side. Col Serrai. Nice place, I've heard."

The lad's breathing quickened. His eyes darted about as if he were searching their surroundings for spies. His voice dropped to a stunned whisper. "Did you... you just said... Col Serrai? That is your destination?"

"Yes," Olgierd frowned. "Something the matter?"

Reyn stood and began pacing. Something resembling nervous excitement flooded him. "No. No, actually, this is good. A tad strange and coincidental. But very good."

Olgierd's frown deepened. "Lad, I detest riddles. What's on your mind?"

"I'm..." Again he took note of their space. "I'm heading to Col Serrai as well. It's extremely important I get there safely."

Olgierd mocked his companion's excited whisper. "And why is this a secret?"

"It's not a... I'd just rather not have any unsavory characters on my trail."

"And you've deemed me savory, have you?"

"Considering everyone else I've encountered so far is either dead, a murdering thief, or both, you are the most savory character by default."

Olgierd almost laughed. The lad was feisty. Didn't mince words. He could respect that.

"And though I've said I detest being in one's debt, I do have a proposal for you."

"Aye? I'm listening."

"I'm well aware that I'm no warrior. What I lack in strength I have in wit. But it's become clear that even the sharpest wit is not much in the way of armor around these parts. I counted on that apple merchant's carriage to safely transport me as far as possible along my journey. It seems that I greatly underestimated the dangers of the wild."

"That you may have."

"You, however, managed to slay five armed bandits in barely thirty seconds. I saw it with my own eyes."

"I appreciate what you're saying, mate, but it was night. I took them surprise."

"It doesn't matter. You were able to do what I couldn't. And that leads to my big question. Will you accompany me on my journey to Col Serrai... as my guard?"

Olgierd opened his mouth but Reyn cut in before he could speak.

"I would pay you, of course. With the crowns I used to pay the traveling merchant. They should still be on his body if we retrace our steps back to the road. I-it would only be until we reach the valley."

"You want me to be your guard. As in bodyguard?"

"I've read of people hiring mercenaries to ensure their safety during long-haul travel. And if we are headed to the same destination... I'm simply being economical."

Olgierd stood and walked a slow circle around the fire. "Col Serrai would take us another couple of weeks, at least. I've not acted as security before. Not for that long."

"I assure you the pay would be very handsome."

Olgierd couldn't help himself. "As handsome as yourself, lad?"

Reyn turned a deep scarlet that made Olgierd bark with laughter. "Awfully modest for a man with a face that would stop Anna Henrietta herself in her tracks. I'm only teasing, lad."

"Tease all you want, _Von Everec_ ," Reyn said with an edge that was somewhere between impatience and jest, "but at least tell me what you think of my offer."

"Let me put it this way. I've a lot to atone for. Escorting someone safely to their destination is but a drop in the pond, but it's a good start. Before I agree, however, I have one condition."

Reyn's face brightened. The glimmer of happiness gave him an almost unearthly glow. Olgierd was surprised by how much it warmed him.

"Does this mean you're saying yes?"

"I am saying I have one condition and if you meet it, I will say yes. Hear me: you will not pay me upfront. You will not pay me in installments throughout the path. You will only pay me after we've arrived in Col Serrai."

"I've told you-"

"I know, I know, you do not enjoy being in someone's debt. But being in debt means you owe something you don't have. Once we've retrieved your crowns from the merchant's body, that won't be the case. You would not be in debt to me. You would simply be keeping my crowns safe until I ask for a withdrawal. Like a bank."

"Huh. Your phrasing is as precise as your swordplay, Olgierd."

"Trust me. When you've seen the things I've seen, suffered what I've suffered, you learn to choose your words carefully. Do you accept?"

Reyn breathed and let his slender shoulders rise and fall. "I accept if you accept another condition of mine."

"Heh. Let's say we both get one each, yeah? I don't want to us to be trading these all day."

"I only need one. My condition is that... ah, how shall I put this? I sense that over the course of our journey, you will want to engage in conversation."

Olgierd almost laughed. "Do I strike you as a taciturn bloke? You sense correctly. I don't plan on spending our travels in silence. Do you?"

"Silence would agree with me just fine. But that seems unreasonable to ask of you so I will make due with conversation if need be. But my condition is this - if I tell you that I don't wish to talk about something, you must accept that. Otherwise this will not work."

"What do you not wish to talk about? Shall we get the laundry list out of the way?"

"That's not what I meant. If we happen to broach a subject that I'm not willing to discuss then I will not discuss it. And you will not press me. Do we have a deal, Olgierd von Everec?" He extended his hand.

Olgierd shook it, finding his skin soft and silken, a caress against his calloused palm. As tough-minded and sharp-witted as the lad was, he truly did need Olgierd's help to survive the journey to Col Serrai.

"We have a deal, Reyn Tze-Windward."

 _This is what a good man does_ , he told himself as he stared into Reyn's serious, beguiling face. _And if I'm not a good man yet, surely this will steer my arse in the right direction_.

Besides, he wouldn't say no to a few extra crowns.

* * *

Reyn delicately slipped his fingers into the dead merchant's pocket and retrieved the satchel of crowns. He backed off quickly, not daring to spare a glance at the man's lifeless face. A corpse was not a sight he wanted to get used to.

"I have it," he called to Olgierd. "We can begin."

Both men left the destroyed carriage behind (although they made sure to help themselves to the surplus of surviving apples) and set out on the dirt trail. It bisected the rest of the forest until the rows of tall pines with their scaly ridges of bark opened into a wide, green field. Reyn could already feel the pressure on his chest lifting. Even hearing the weight of Olgierd's boots on the gravel beside him became strangely soothing. It was an affirmation all on its own: _You are not alone anymore_.

As they walked it took Reyn some concentration to keep his eyes to himself. He had to admit Olgierd fascinated him. He'd gone from a perceived enemy to ally so quickly. Had it been too quickly? Reyn hoped not. He was counting on Olgierd. Plus, he liked the man's suggestion that he not be paid until their travels were complete. It meant that Olgierd couldn't abandon him and run off with the crowns any time he wished.

His instincts about men were rarely incorrect. And Olgierd's rugged physicality, towering height and easy charm put him at ease. _Safe_ was not something Reyn had felt often, but with Olgierd watching his back, he could see _safe_ approaching him on the horizon.

An hour or so of amiable silence passed before Olgierd pointed to the pendant around Reyn's neck.

"Been meaning to ask who that's from. Girlfriend?"

 _Ah, here we go_ , Reyn thought. _The conversations begin. On your mark, get set..._

"No girlfriend. My mother gave it to me."

"It's always one or the other, eh. Is it wine stone? Never seen one so dark."

Reyn closed a hand over the memento. The black gem was pellet-shaped, flat on one end and pointed on the other. It wasn't what anyone would call pretty but he'd worn it for as long as he could remember. "I'm not sure myself. She told me some nonsense as a child about it being forged during the Conjunction of the Spheres and passed down through her family. Fairy tales, I know. But it keeps me close to her."

"You're very fortunate. I wish I had something of my mother's. Why, I don't know. Can't say she was ever thrilled with me when she was alive."

"I'm sure she loved you," Reyn said gently.

His companion chuckled. "She'd have sooner said those words to a rotfiend than me. Her _and_ my father. Honestly, I never gave them much reason to love me. Wouldn't be fair to resent them, would it?"

Reyn didn't know what to say to that. But the information fit with what little he knew of the man. If Olgierd had never known his family's love it would explain his hardscrabbled sense of independence. Yet another way in which both men were polar opposites.

"So if you're not a Kaedwener," Olgierd started on a new topic, "Where do you hail from? I've been trying to place your accent."

"Centaura."

"Cent-aw-rah? Where the bloody rot is that?"

"Have you honestly never heard of it? It's an island kingdom. Roughly one hundred sundowns west of Skellige."

The look of amazement on Olgierd's face told him all he needed to know. People of the Continent had never truly ventured beyond their borders. They were unaware of entire races and religions and peoples.

"I have never heard of such a place. Shite. You must think of me as some ignorant boor."

Reyn managed a small grin at this. "I suspect you're more a scoundrel than ignorant."

"A scoundrel? Me? Perish the thought."

Reyn's grin widened into a smile. He hadn't let himself smile genuinely in a while. It felt like stepping into a warm spring breeze after months of winter.

"That's the first I've seen you smile, you know." Olgierd grinned back. "You should do it more often."

"It must look so strained on me. I've used it more as a tool to get what I want rather than a way to express how I feel."

"Maybe that'll change starting today, lad."

"Maybe."

Olgierd gazed at him with warmth in his eyes. Reyn felt that warmth in every vein of his body and it invited wild, forbidden thoughts. Thoughts he hadn't seriously entertained in a long while. Like how Olgierd's strong hands would feel roaming the length of his back. Or how it would feel to open his mouth and discover Olgierd's tongue eagerly-

"So tell me more about this Centaura."

Reyn snapped out of his private reverie and cleared his throat. "Erm, well, our neigbors called us the Isle of Enlightenment. Universities, academies of every discipline, beautiful libraries ten stories tall... a paradise, really. We were an empire of scholars, researchers, and seekers of knowledge."

Olgierd paused at this. "Did you say 'were'?"

 _Shite_. Reyn sucked in a breath. He promised himself he would keep certain things locked away. But Olgierd von Everec, a man of such deft and strange charisma, managed a dangerous glimpse into the maze of his secrets.

"I did. It was a kingdom... past tense. But that's as much as I wish to say if that's alright." He said it as softly and politely as he could, not wanting to wrench apart the progress they'd made in earning each other's trust. But Reyn knew his limits and he hoped that Olgierd would understand.

His guard nodded. They had an agreement, after all.

They spent the rest of the day on the path, chatting about this or that, but leaving the details of their pasts on an imaginary boundary they both shared.


	3. What Remains of Night

In the middle of the fourth night of their journey, Reyn shot up from his resting place beside the campfire.

Something had woken him from a dead sleep. Something that was prowling the dense, surrounding forest.

"Olgierd." His voice shot out as a strangled whisper. "Olgierd, wake up."

"Mrrrmpphm," the man on the other end of the campfire groaned. That had been their sleeping arrangement - each of them on one end of the fire - every night so far. The flames acted as an unspoken buffer between them.

" _Please_."

"What's wrong?" Olgierd stirred, eventually rolling up in a half sit. "Another nightmare?"

"There's something _here_."

Olgierd stood. His sword was already in hand. "What? Bandits?"

Reyn shook his head. But he couldn't offer an answer beyond that. What exactly had he seen? A person? An animal? Or something... worse?

"I think I saw it's eyes. They were red."

Somewhere, a branch snapped loud and sudden as a thunderclap.

"We have to leave." Reyn's voice was rigid with fear. "Now."

Olgierd scanned their surroundings for movement. Wind rustled the trees. "Gather your things. Quickly," he said without shifting his intense gaze.

Reyn did as he was told without any resistance. Olgierd stood a moment longer before he retrieved his pack and kicked dirt over their fire. They hurried onto the footpath that ran adjacent to the stretch of forest that would eventually lead them into Kaedwen. They didn't quite run but they walked as quickly as such a pace could take them.

"Stay close to me," Olgierd said.

It was not a difficult instruction to follow. Reyn didn't want to stray one footfall away from him. Not after what he saw - or what he thought he saw.

"Where are we going?" Reyn threw a fearful glance behind. Nothing, thankfully, was on their trail.

"I don't know yet. We might not be far off from a village. Could rustle up a room at an inn, I reckon."

"This late at night?"

"Do you see the look on your face, Reyn? I'm not having you sleep tonight without a roof and four walls around you."

Reyn, surprised by the earnestness of his words and the flaring heat within his body as they were spoken, could only offer a mute nod. Anyone else would have been rightly annoyed to be woken mid-sleep only to hitch everything up and move... but Olgierd managed without one hint of irritation. There was an ease and gallantness to his actions that Reyn quietly admired.

They continued to walk, tired feet pounding the earth as they advanced along the darkened path. After an hour Olgierd saw the glittering reflection of moonlight on water. His eyes wandered along the glade that had opened in front of them, shocked to find a lake, round and shimmering. And then...

"A cabin," Olgierd pointed. Roughly fifty feet away from the lakeshore. "Look."

Both men hurried their pace. As they got nearer the structure revealed more of itself. A ramshackle thing, really. Old and disused, slanted roughly, but still standing.

"Do you think anyone's home?" Reyn couldn't believe their luck.

"Nah. No smoke out the chimney. I've known places like these. Some ambitious farmer decides his family needs a vacation home and builds a little lakeside shack. But then the wife decides it's too rustic or the youngest child catches ill and..." Olgierd made a dismissive noise. "Then the cottage is all but forgotten. Pretty common 'round these parts."

"We should still check if someone's staying here."

Olgierd gave the door a hard kick. "Oy!"

"Not like _that_ ," Reyn grabbed his arm. "What happened to knocking politely?"

"Mr. Manners, eh?"

The door, startled open by Olgierd's boot, creaked ajar. Olgierd entered first and held an arm out to keep Reyn where he stood. When the one-room space was sufficiently explored he nodded for him to enter.

Reyn did, gladly, and shut the door behind him. He was relieved to find that it locked as well.

Olgierd crouched at the fireplace and lit the kindling with his flint. Within moments the cabin flooded with warmth and hazy orange light. The space certainly looked abandoned from the fine layer of dust that covered everything: a table, a rocking chair, an old oven, a bed.

Exhausted, Reyn sat on the edge of the cot and put his face in his hands. "I don't think I've ever been this tired in my life."

"Based on the position of the moon it looks like we didn't get much sleep." Olgierd stretched his muscles as he approached the cabin's lone window. "You get some rest, lad. I'll keep watch until I'm sure nothing's followed us." But Reyn didn't move or make any motions to lie down, which made Olgierd frown. "You alright?"

"I'm sorry."

"What?"

The younger man looked up from his hands. With the adrenaline of their midnight expedition gone, a sliver of embarrassment crept through him.

"I'm just... sorry. For getting so spooked that I made us up and leave our campsite. I feel a little silly about it now."

"You didn't _make_ me do anything, Reyn. Protecting you is my job. I knew bloody well when I accepted your deal that it wouldn't all be velvet bedsheets and naked wenches with fruit platters." Olgierd left his position by the window and sat beside him. The straw mattress sunk a little beneath their weight. "And don't call your instincts silly. They're not. They could very well have just saved your life."

"My first instinct when I met you was to run away."

"Hah. Well I can't say I'd blame you if you did. But I'm glad you didn't."

"I'm glad too."

The sight of Olgierd's smile made Reyn's stomach flutter. "Can I ask you something?"

"You can ask me anything."

"And you can't laugh. You have to promise."

"Laugh more than I did when you ran forehead-first into a tree? I dare say it's impossible."

Reyn nudged the man's side and uttered a sound of comically exaggerated annoyance. Olgierd nudged back. Reyn fell against the mattress with a chuckle.

"Mind your strength, Von Everec."

"You started it. Now what is it you wish to ask?"

The mirth left Reyn and he drew in a breath to summon the necessary strength. "Would it be possible if... for tonight I mean... if you could... erm..."

"Out with it, Tze-Windward. If you're requesting I stand watch until morning I was going to anyway."

"No, actually. I wanted to know if you could sleep beside me tonight."

It was hard to tell in the glare of the fire but he could have sworn Olgierd's face colored at the suggestion.

"Beside you?"

"Just for tonight." He swallowed the nervous lump in his throat. Olgierd hadn't laughed at the question at least.

"Would that make you feel... safer?"

"Yes." He couldn't get the memory of those blazing red eyes out of his mind. He didn't dare imagine the face they belonged to.

Olgierd shrugged. "Fine. Then I will."

"You will?"

"You'll have to scoot over. You take up an awful lot of space for someone so thin."

"Please. Your legs alone would take up half the mattress."

"What's wrong with my legs?" Olgierd grunted as he swung himself onto the bed and stretched out. "I've got very nice legs, I'll have you know."

Reyn bit back a smile. "You certainly don't lack for confidence."

"I know to emphasize my strengths. This mug of mine won't win me any beauty contests but these legs could kick a rabid wolf clear across a field."

Reyn laughed at the absurd image and laid down. His face was mere inches away from Olgierd's. Somehow, the proximity bothered neither man.

An amicable silence, interrupted only by the occasional cackle of firewood, rested between them. This, Reyn imagined, was probably what having an older brother was like. The push and pull of camaraderie and irritation, revelry and guidance. And at the center of it all was the shelter of each other's company.

But was older brother the correct way to think of Olgierd? Or were they developing something more immediate and intimate than that?

As Reyn pondered, Olgierd cleared his throat to break the silence. "Did you know that I'm a friends with a Witcher?"

"A Witcher? You're lying."

"Well, friends may be too generous a term but I don't know what else to call a man who rescued my soul from the claws of damnation. I swear it on my brother's grave."

"How did you meet him?"

"That's... a story for another night. Instead I will tell you what seeing a Witcher for the first time is like. I'm usually the tallest man in a room but when one Geralt of Rivia strolled into my presence and met my eye line, well, you can't blame a man for feeling oddly competitive, can you?"

"You and this Geralt weren't friendly at first?"

"I doubt its possible for _anyone_ to be friendly with Geralt at first. The man is a fortress. No one gets in and nothing gets out. And I guarantee you he's a sight you've never seen. Hair the palest of gray, eyes amber and cold. Strong as a bear but nimble as a panther..."

Reyn smiled as he listened, eventually allowing his eyes to close. He never heard the end of the story, just quietly slipped under their shared sheepskin blanket when a deep sleep claimed him.

* * *

The heat against his chest and stomach burned with a passionate flame Olgierd hadn't felt in ages.

His thumb stroked skin as soft as the finest silk. The woman in his arms smelled like flowers, exotic and dewy with promise. Olgierd's lips found her velvet neck. She murmured with pleasure. The quiet vibration of her voice - oddly deep for a woman, but he didn't mind - made his heart swell with pleasure. His heart and other places...

Olgierd came awake slowly. It was not yet morning but the deep blue of night was just starting to lighten. His dream was too good to give up. His hands caressed and explored delicious skin that was not his own. He wasn't ready to stop. Neither was the woman, who curled against him as though she could burrow into his body. Whoever he slept with last night, she was plenty affectionate.

Wait.

 _Slept with?!_

Olgierd's eyes snapped open.

Reyn lay nestled against him. His fingers curled around Olgierd's bicep and his forehead tucked gently against the man's neck. Some time during the night their bodies must have naturally folded into each other.

It was easy to see why he mistook Reyn for a woman at first, with his long-ish hair and delicate features. The way their bodies fit together reminded Olgierd of his steamier nights in Redania. His first thoughts upon waking had been sexual. The swollen bulge of his crotch - which Reyn's thigh lay dangerously near - was proof enough of that.

The younger man would probably hate him for his thoughts. Olgierd was keyed enough into the subtleties of conversation to know what Reyn thought about men and the way they expressed their desires. Particularly those with desires toward him.

But Olgierd wasn't like the brutes who tried to force themselves on Reyn. Aside from a drunken dare during a party to tongue kiss one of his fellow soldiers he hadn't any intimate encounters with another man. He certainly never entertained the idea of bedding one.

 _Well,_ the thought struck him, _That's not entirely true, is it?_

The men he usually kept company with weren't much to look at. But there might have been an occasion or two when a nobleman or young prince with symmetrical, inviting looks caught his attention. He'd interpreted those feelings as admiration. Like what he felt while observing a fine painting or sculpture. Some thoughts may have strayed into fantasy, yes, but they didn't seem worth pursuing, even if they laid quietly in the back of his mind with nowhere to go. They stayed there as Olgierd continued to chase women. He even married one after a long, difficult courtship.

 _But that chapter of your life is over now_... _why do you deny it?_

He knew from the moment his gaze crossed Reyn that he was a different sort of man. The sort of man that intrigued him. But he didn't realize, until this morning, what exactly that meant.

Before Reyn could feel the effect he had on his body, Olgierd eased out of bed. Reyn followed him, still murmuring in his sleep, keeping an insistent grip on his arm. Olgierd found the gesture rather sweet. He liked seeing this young man with his defenses down.

The first rays of morning peeked through the cabin window and the wooden slats of the door. The pink sun framed Reyn's face in a beguiling glow. He no longer looked so serious and stern. Olgierd had to wonder, was this the real Reyn?

He couldn't say. The ex-Centauran had secrets, that much was obvious. He couldn't carry another person's burdens. Not after everything he'd been through. If Reyn didn't want to share that was more than fine with him.

He slipped on his outer clothes and fastened his sword's hilt to his belt. He stepped outside to take in the fresh dawn air. He figured a quick jog around the small lake would calm him. No sense in having Reyn wake up and catch him semi-aroused.

 _Unless he wants it just as bad as you clearly do_.

Olgierd's heart quickened at the intrusive thought. He shoved it away as quickly as it had appeared, back in the storage vault where he kept those other flights of fancy.

Yes. A jog around the lake would do.


End file.
